Jess’s brow furrowed as she thought through different scenarios. And then the disappointment washed over her as quick and heavy as a waterfall.
Shit.
She should have asked the driver more questions. She should have dug a little deeper when she’d pulled him over. No, she didn’t have any right to search his car, but she could have at least talked to him for a little while, maybe see if he’d let something slip. Because the more she thought about it, the more she was now convinced that the pipes Bruce Lindell had been unloading from his truck weren’t from some small DIY job at his own house. He’d probably ripped them out of an abandoned building. A vacant home for sale. Or even new construction.
Jess swallowed as she got out of the police cruiser, slamming the door shut. How was she ever going to make it to detective if she couldn’t even do this part of her damn job right?
She marched past her own desk and directly toward Kellan’s office. His door was partially closed so she knocked, a quick rat-a-tat-tat on the metal doorframe that stung her knuckles.
“Come in.”
She poked her head in first, then stepped fully inside. Kellan was at his desk, not looking at her.
“How was your shift?” he asked, his eyes still on the papers in front of him. “Uneventful?”
“For the most part.” She cleared her throat. “But this morning, I pulled over a guy. Speeding. Let him off with a warning.”
Kellan looked up then, one eyebrow arched, and waited.
“He was going to the recycling plant. Superior Metals,” she continued. “I let him go, then drove past him on my way back to the station. He had an awful lot of scrap metal to unload. In the way of pipes.”
The other brow went up. “Is that so?”
She nodded, a small thrill of excitement running through her. She’d piqued her boss’s interest. “Not sure what it means, but I’m happy to head back over there to check it out.”
Kellan lifted a sheet of paper, seemingly consulting something underneath. “Cam is due in any minute. I’ll send her out, have her ask for APS records.”
“I can do it,” Jess said quickly. “I mean, it’s probably nothing. I’m sure Cam has better things to do than ask for a database search for scrap metal sales.”
“You’re off,” Kellan told her. “And Cam can make time for it.”
Jess felt a surge of disappointment. “It’s really no problem,” she said, still lobbying. “I can go off the clock.”
“Go home.” Kellan’s voice was soft but firm. “You just worked a twelve-hour shift. Cam will take care of it. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Jess opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Wordlessly, she shuffled to the locker room and stripped out of her uniform. She yanked her street clothes from her locker, pulling on black yoga pants and a lavender T-shirt, then slammed the locker door shut. The sound of metal crashing into metal made her wince.
She raked her brush through her short dark hair, almost relishing the pain it caused as she tore through the tangles.
She wasn’t angry at Kellan.
He was just doing his job.
Nope, she was angry at herself.
She’d blown it.
She’d had the opportunity to do something…more. And what did she do?
She’d let it slip right through her fingers.
So much for plans.
At the rate she was going, her plans were never going to materialize.
2
Thursday, June 22
10:15 am
Jarrett was sitting in Lulu’s coffee shop, an iced Americano in front of him, trying to be patient as he waited for the woman he was meeting to make her way over to his table.
He wasn’t angry and he wasn’t irritated. More like…exasperated. But even that was a bit of a stretch, he thought, as he watched Louanne, the owner of the coffee shop and adopted mother/grandmother to the whole damn town of Aspen Falls, try to work her way to where he was sitting.
It wasn’t her fault that people wanted to talk to her. Well, it was sort of her fault. She could talk anyone’s ear off if given the chance, and since she pretty much knew everyone in town, it always seemed like she had something to say to every single person who crossed her path.
Jarrett reached for his phone and glanced at the time. He thought he’d picked a good time to pop in for a quick interview. It was just after ten o’clock, definitely after the morning rush of people but right before customers would come streaming in for lunch.
He shook his head, watching as Louanne inched closer to him. She caught his eye and held up her finger, signaling she’d be there in a minute.
Ha, he thought. More like twenty at the rate she was moving.
Jarrett shifted his attention to the yellow legal pad sitting in front of him. It was the smaller size, easily tucked into briefcases or backpacks, and still his preferred method of taking notes when covering a story. He always typed everything up on his laptop eventually, submitting his stories electronically to the Aspen Falls Daily, but when he was out interviewing people or even at home or in the field, researching information, his go-to was still to handwrite his notes. And yeah, he was pretty much the only person who could read his handwriting, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t write his notes for anyone but himself.
He read what was on the pad in front of him. Basic details about the 5K run taking place on Saturday. It had been a brainchild of Louanne’s, a project to raise money for the Aspen Falls food shelf, and the inaugural race was two days away. Jarrett had all the details for the article the paper was running tomorrow, but he wanted a few minutes of Louanne’s time to get some quotes to add to the piece. She’d readily agreed, always eager to chat, especially if it was about a cause near and dear to her heart.
Except she was also eager to chat with literally everyone else in the shop.
“How’s your coffee?”
Rosie Sweet was wiping down a nearby table. She brushed a lock of brown hair away from her face and smiled at him.
He picked up his mug. “It’s good,” he said. “But at the rate Louanne’s making her way over, I’ll probably go through another dozen before she gets here.”
Rosie chuckled. “She just can’t say no, can she? Not to people wanting to talk. Not to anything, really.”
Jarrett nodded. “You can say that again.”
Rosie stared at the older woman, a faraway look in her eyes, and Jarrett watched her carefully. He knew most of her history—her return to town, the danger she’d faced, and the way Louanne had offered her both a job and a place to stay—and he could tell by her expression that Louanne held a very special place in Rosie’s heart.
Louanne bustled toward them, her round cheeks a rosy red. She bestowed a quick smile on Jarrett before beaming a wider one at Rosie.
“Your red velvet cupcakes are a hit!” She squeezed Rosie’s arms. “I was just talking to Eleanor. She wants four dozen for her 4th of July party next week. You up for that?”
Rosie blinked and nodded. “Really?”
“Yep. I looked into the case on my way in here and there were only a few left.” Louanne’s smile somehow managed to grow, and now stretched from ear to ear. “Good work, sweetheart. You’ll be opening up your own bakery in no time.”
Rosie blushed. “I don’t know about that.”
Louanne just laughed and gave her a hug. “Get going,” she said. “I don’t pay you to stand around and talk to me.”
Rosie hustled back to the front of the café, and Louanne slid into the chair across from Jarrett.
“Thanks for waiting on me,” she said. Her voice held a note of apology. “I didn’t expect it to be quite so busy in here this morning.”
“Me, either,” he said dryly.
She folded her hands in front of her, resting them neatly on the scuffed wooden table. “How’s your mom, honey? She doing okay?”
Jarrett gave a slight nod. “As well as can be expected, I guess.”
Louanne’s brow
wrinkled. “Doctors still haven’t figured out what’s going on?”
“They’re working on it,” he said. He picked up his pen and tapped it lightly against the pad of paper. It was not a subject he was comfortable talking about. Actually, he didn’t much like talking about anything related to himself. He was the reporter; he should be the one asking the questions.
But this was Louanne. “They think it’s some kind of autoimmune disease,” he told her. “Rheumatoid arthritis, maybe. But they haven’t ruled out Lyme, and I guess there are a few more tests they want to run.”
She made a sympathetic face. “Poor dear. I can’t even imagine. I hope you’ll let her know that I’m thinking of her, and if there’s anything I can do, all she needs to do is say the word.”
Jarrett managed a smile. “Thanks. I’ll let her know.” He repositioned the pad in front of him, anxious to get down to business. “I don’t need much of your time. Just want to get some info from you for tomorrow’s article about the 5K.”
“Another one?” She chuckled. “Goodness, I think you’ve run half a dozen stories about it already.”
“Well, it’s kind of a big story,” he said.
It was. Sort of. The fact that Louanne had come up with this idea and run with it, and the fact that it looked like it might become a new annual event for Aspen Falls, was definitely newsworthy. But Jarrett didn’t think it warranted multiple write-ups in the paper. And he certainly didn’t want to be the one writing them.
But Terry, the editor of the paper and his boss, had asked him to do it. And because it was a slow news day—hell, it was a slow news week—Jarrett had sucked it up and made the drive to Lulu’s.
To hear yet again about the 5K.
To write down more quotes from the woman who was the brainchild behind it.
He bit back a sigh and tried to focus on Louanne’s chatter. He jotted down a couple of good quotes, asked some questions he’d already asked before, and was finished in five minutes.
He’d have the entire article written in less than ten.
And he’d be right back where he’d been hours earlier. Right back where he’d been yesterday and the day before. And the day before that.
Bored out of his mind.
Jarrett knew exactly what he needed to change things up, to get him out of the perpetual funk he seemed to be living in.
He needed a story.
A big story.
He thought back to last month, the story about Mila, the missing girl whose remains had been discovered in the old farmhouse, and how that had cracked open an even bigger case.
He thought about Noah Dans’s suicide, and how Lucas’s digging had proved it was anything but.
And he thought again about Rosie and her story.
Those were the kinds of things he wanted to write about. Those were the stories he wanted to dig for and put together. Because now that he’d gotten a taste of them, he wanted more. He wanted to be constantly searching and following up leads, hypothesizing and ruminating and throwing shit to the wall to see what stuck.
And coming out with kickass stories on the other side.
He did not want to be writing about charity 5Ks.
Louanne was long gone from his table when he sucked down the last of his drink. He shoved his notepad back into his bag and then reached for his phone, opening his email. He sighed when the new message count was zero, then opened Twitter, scanned the local accounts he followed.
Nada.
He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
He knew what he needed to do to get big stories on a consistent basis. To be part of the nonstop action in a busy newsroom.
He needed to leave Aspen Falls.
Find bigger pastures.
There was just one problem.
Leaving wasn’t an option.
Not with his mom as sick as she was. He thought back to Louanne’s kind words. His appreciation for what she’d said quickly morphed into frustration as he thought about his mother’s condition, and how she was literally deteriorating before his eyes. Even after an extensive battery of tests, his mom’s doctors still didn’t have a definitive diagnosis.
Under normal circumstances, Jarrett might not have been so worried. Sure, it was concerning, and of course he wanted to find answers and, more importantly, a treatment plan that would get her back to her old self again, but they’d just gone through a horrible medical ordeal in his family the year before, when his dad had been diagnosed with cancer. They’d gotten him into treatment as soon as the illness was discovered, but by that time the cancer had moved from his blood to his bones, and despite aggressive tactics, he’d lost his battle just six months after his initial diagnosis.
His father’s death had wrecked his family. His mother, losing her partner of almost forty years. His sister, who had worshipped the ground her father had walked on.
And Jarrett himself. He missed his dad, of course, and the loss weighed heavily on him. But there were other things that felt like boulders sitting atop his chest, so heavy sometimes that it made it difficult to breathe.
He was the one now. The man of the extended household, the person keeping their family together.
He had to be, especially with his mom being sick.
And because of that, he knew that even though he wasn’t happy with his job, and knew that if he left Aspen Falls he could find the stories he wanted to write, he wouldn’t.
He was stuck, bound by family and obligation and promises made to his dying father.
He wasn’t going to be leaving Aspen Falls anytime soon.
Which meant his career was going nowhere, too.
3
Saturday, June 24
10:30 am
Jessica waited on the road by Lulu’s, keeping an eye on the flow of both pedestrian and vehicle traffic as the Food Fest 5K began to wind down. The morning was already sticky and hot, and Jessica was sweltering in her police uniform. For the umpteenth time that summer, she wished her hair was long enough to pull back into a ponytail. As much as she liked the short cut she’d gotten in the fall, she hadn’t thought to how it would feel during a humid Minnesota summer, her hair thick and heavy and plastered to her head in a fine sheen of sweat.
She grimaced. She would definitely need a shower when she got home.
The fastest runners, the ones who were actually running for time, had already crossed the makeshift finish line, and the second-tier athletes were coming in now. There was a team of volunteers waiting for them as they finished, handing out lemonade and cookies, along with free drink coupons, for those of age, to Shorty’s. Jessica licked her lips. She could do with a glass of lemonade right about now. And a stronger, more fortifying drink at Shorty’s later on.
Rosie must have read her mind because she suddenly materialized at Jess’s side, a plastic cup of lemonade in hand. “You look like you could use this.” She grinned.
Jessica accepted it gratefully. She brought the cup to her lips, her mouth zinging with the sweet tang of lemon as she gulped it down.
“Cookie, too?” Rosie offered, holding out a plate of plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookies. They were looking awfully melty under the strong summer sun.
Jess held up a hand. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Rosie just nodded and shifted her gaze back to the runners. Her face lit up and she started jumping up and down, waving gleefully with her free hand. Jess smiled when she saw who’d grabbed Rosie’s attention.
Blaine Hartford, her colleague and Rosie’s significant other, was jogging toward the finish line. His cheeks were flushed, his hair damp, but he was still moving at the same steady pace he’d started the race at. Jess was reluctantly impressed. And a little bit jealous.
She was just as sweaty as her fellow police officer, but she’d done nothing except stand and watch over the end of the course. If it had been up to her, she’d have much rather run the race. Because she would have run to win.
Blaine approached them, wrapping hi
s arms around his girlfriend and making her squeal.
“You are a sweaty mess!” Rosie said, squirming in his arms.
He kissed her cheek. “But I’m your sweaty mess.”
“Yes, you are,” Rosie murmured. She shifted the plate of cookies and nuzzled up against her boyfriend.
Jess looked away. Not because the scene was making her uncomfortable—she didn’t have a problem with sweet public displays of affection like theirs—but because it was another reminder of something else she’d let slip through her fingers.
Love.
That wasn’t entirely true. She stole another glance at the happy couple. She’d been in a few relationships over the years, but none since taking the job in Aspen Falls a few years back. When she accepted the position, she’d decided to focus 100 percent on her career. And she had.
Which meant her personal life had suffered.
She shook her head. No use crying over spilled milk, her dad used to tell her.
It was still pretty good advice.
She forced a smile. “You put up a good time, Hartford.”
Blaine grinned. “This is my benchmark time. Next year’s goal will be to beat it.”
Rosie nudged him with her elbow. “Next year I’ll run with you…and we’ll see who crosses the finish line first.”
He let out a low chuckle. “You’re on.”
He wrapped his arm around her, and they headed back toward the front of the café so Rosie could rejoin the other volunteers handing out refreshments.
Jess stole a quick glance at her watch. The 5K was supposed to wrap up by noon, and Kellen had promised she could take off after it ended. He’d personally asked her to cover this shift, knowing they would need all hands on deck for the event and to maintain regular patrols. Plus, he knew she wouldn’t say no.
She never did.
She sighed and refocused her attention on the next wave of participants finishing up. Lucas McGowan was coming into view, his girlfriend, Alaina, walking alongside him. He was limping a little, favoring one of his legs, the lingering result of an injury he’d suffered that had forced him off the police roster.
Dire Straits Page 2
